Falling

by Sahara Kelly

  She sighed, shifting slightly as he began to walk his fingertips up and down her vertebrae. "Our relationship changed, I guess."

  "How?"

  "Little ways. Nothing major. He talked more, I talked less. Instead of sharing our day over dinner, I became an audience for his recital. I didn't mind, honestly, Cris, I'm not complaining…"

  "Sssh. I know."

  Warm palms slid down either side of her body, to swing up and back to beneath her shoulders. Shit, this guy could really give one helluva massage.

  "Go on."

  "We were still a couple, but I was losing any sense of myself. I was becoming half of him, the lesser half, drowning in some ways, I suppose. Submerging my need to tell him, share stuff with him, in favor of letting him tell me."

  "Why did you do that?"

  "I don't know. It seemed…the thing to do. The supportive partner bit, you know? He had a very challenging job, and he worked damned hard to get where he is. I'm proud of his achievements."

  "But you'd also like him to be proud of yours?" His hands found something beneath one shoulder and dug, working it, soothing it, easing it.

  "Oh yessss." Jen sighed out the truth along with an exhalation of physical pleasure.

  Just once, to hear David say "Hey Jen, that's fabulous. Well done." He'd probably forgotten the words even existed. And yet she said them to him all the time.

  Something popped into her mind. "You know, about six months ago, I went through a very difficult time in my job. I fought long and hard for a project I believed in, and finally it all came together. I was so happy-dancing on air-I couldn't wait to get home and tell him about it."

  She turned her face away from Cris. "You know what happened?"

  "No. Tell me." Cris's hands were slowing, the massage turning gentle and soothing.

  "He wasn't there. Just a message that he'd been re-scheduled for a trip at the last minute, and would I forward a couple of files to his phone. He knew, Cris. He knew it was the day that would make or break my job-I'd told him that very morning." She sighed. "He didn't even ask."

  There was silence for a moment as Cris worked even further down her back, reaching that tender spot at the base of her spine.

  "I…I'm plagued with demons sometimes." Jen closed her eyes.

  "What kinds of demons?"

  She laughed. "Silly ones. Ones that only show up in the wee dark hours of the night."

  "What kinds of demons?" Cris asked again, quietly, continuing to knead her muscles with rhythmic pressure.

  "A lot of them are demons of age. Demons of not being attractive any more." Jen bit her lip. "Nasty little critters that tell me nobody's going to ever look at me as a desirable woman again. They point out that David doesn't look at me as if I'm a desirable woman. He looks at me like I'm just there. And there's a big difference."

  "There is?"

  "Yep." Jen sighed as Cris dug his fingers into a spot next to her spine and loosened some knots. "There's something in a man's eye when he wants a woman. Something…appealing, that makes you feel alive and tingling. Something arousing. Something that makes you want to explore the possibilities. Something-ah, I don't know how to describe it."

  "But you don't get it from David?"

  Jen chuckled wryly. "After all this time, he knows what he's getting. What to expect. He has nothing to prove to me or himself. He's living with me. I guess he's committed to making a life with me and that should say it all. But it doesn't replace that look…"

  "That's one hell of a big demon."

  "Yeah." And it sits on my chest night after night. "There are others, of course."

  "Oh?" Cris kneaded her vertebrae, firmly but comfortingly. "Tell me."

  And to her surprise, she did. "Demons of wondering if this is what it's going to be for the rest of my life. Demons that smirk at me, point the remote control at me and turn to the Do It Yourself channel. And then say 'This is it, Jen. Your life. This is all there is.'. They're the ones that particularly suck." She tried for humor. "They delight in showing me the rest of my existence. Slowly disintegrating into boredom and futility."

  "And what do you tell those demons?"

  "I don't. I have a drink. They go away."

  "Always?"

  Jen swallowed. "No. Not always." Her answer was a whisper against the pillow.

  "Does he tell you that you're beautiful?"

  "No."

  "Does he look at you with desire, Jennifer? Like he can't wait to get you home?"

  "No."

  "Does he take pride in having you on his arm?"

  "I don't know. Not that you'd notice, I suppose. I get introduced, but it seems mostly as a courtesy."

  Slowly, with infinite care, Cris slid the towel off her body. Jen gritted her teeth. Her body was relaxed, her mind anything but. Facing some truths about her relationship with David while being massaged by someone who could have modeled for Adonis was-weird. Having her backside bare-naked to his gaze simply put the cherry on the cake. What the hell. She surrendered to the moment.

  She supposed his next question was inevitable, given where he was starting to massage.

  "And the physical side of your relationship?"

  No apologies for prying, no excuses, just straight to the point. Sex. She chewed on her bottom lip as she considered her response. Make that her answer, since her body was doing some quite nice responding all on its own. The sort that talked a different, and rather moist, language.

  "Yeah, I figured we'd get to that."

  Chapter 5

  Cris couldn't have stopped himself from asking the question if his life had depended on it.

  Jennifer had accepted his touch, welcomed his massage and opened her innermost thoughts to him, much as she'd offered her body to his hands. With an innocent need. A need to relieve the burdens of her heart as much as the knots in her muscles.

  It was unique. Cris couldn't remember ever having a woman share so much, talk so freely, and yet still arouse his sexual desire so strongly. While he waited for her to tell him about her sex-life, he cradled her buttocks in his hands, stroking them, then pressing his fingertips into the gluteal muscles that lurked beneath the smoothness.

  She gasped a little and her hips shifted. She was certainly aware of him-he could smell the delicate fragrance of woman-honey sweet-mixing with the light herbal scent of the oil.

  "It seems odd." The words fell from her lips as he continued his massage and ignored his arousal.

  "What does?"

  "Talking about my sex life with a stranger who's massaging my butt."

  Cris laughed. "Yes. I suppose it would. But tell me anyway, since we're getting personal here."

  "You're very easy to talk to, you know that?" She murmured the words as Cris felt her muscles ease beneath his palms.

  "Thank you. I'm pleased you think so." He dripped a little oil on her skin and rubbed it into her beautiful buttocks, making them shine. "So tell me about the sex."

  She huffed into the pillow. "What's to tell? It was good, then it was okay…and I guess now you'd say what little there is, is sort of routine."

  "Can sex be routine?"

  "Yes."

  A single word, yet one dripping with emotions. Frustration, fear, unhappiness-they were all there. "And love?"

  "I suppose. I suppose that makes the routine bearable."

  "But sometimes it's not enough?" Cris's hands paused over her glowing skin.

  "No. I hate to say it but sometimes even love is not enough." She sighed. "Not enough to make me feel. To remind me that I'm special." Jen turned her head. "I'm being stupid. And ungrateful, and unappreciative of all the things I have. Go ahead. This is where you're supposed to remind me of all that stuff."

  "I could." Cris thought carefully. "But that would be the politically correct side of me. Somehow I think you'd prefer honesty."

  Jen stiffened a little. "I would. Perhaps that's why it's easy to talk to you about such things. I don't know you, you don't know me. There are no
hidden agendas here between us."

  There's nothing hidden about my agenda, florecita. If you could see my shorts you'd know it, without a doubt. Cris bit down on a surge of lust. This wasn't the time. Nor the place. Those would perhaps both come. But not quite yet.

  "To be honest, I see a woman who is confused. Who wants something from her life she's not getting. Who is afraid of what lies ahead of her, since she has nothing to fall back on for support. No sense of self-worth other than being somebody's chosen partner." He moved to one smooth thigh and began to work the muscle. "Am I close?"

  There was silence for a moment or two. Then her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath. "Yes."

  "Very well. To continue. Here's a woman with so much to offer. Beauty, brains, an excellent sense of humor, and yet she is doubting herself. I have to wonder why." He moved around the table to the other thigh. "And I see a desirable, sexy woman who has no idea of her own appeal. Who has lost the capacity to see herself through a man's eyes."

  Jen's head moved on the pillow as she nodded.

  "A woman," continued Cris, "a woman who believes she can no longer feel the passion to which she is entitled."

  "It's not his fault." Jen mumbled the words. "Honestly. It's not his fault. There must be something wrong with me."

  Cris smiled. "There's nothing wrong with you. And probably nothing wrong with your man. But…" His hands stroked her legs all the way down to the ankles and back up again. "He is guilty of one thing, one terrible cardinal sin."

  "He is?"

  "Oh yes, most definitely." He let his palms linger on her calves, then run up behind her knees, making her shiver a little.

  "What?"

  "Taking you for granted."

  *~*~*~*

  Jen thought about that. The whole being taken for granted thing. What it did to her ego and her belief in herself. She remained silent, simply enjoying the sensual massage that was turning her muscles into jelly and making her tensions disappear into the cool air of the spa.

  "He does, doesn't he?" Cris's voice was closer now as he began to work her arms.

  "Yes. Yes he does."

  "More fool him."

  Jen smiled. "Thank you."

  "He's a fool in several ways. Firstly because he's forgotten to cherish the treasure he's been given." Cris's hands smoothed her shoulder. "Forgotten that a woman must always be loved with passion, no matter whether she be wife, girlfriend or whatever."

  The strokes continued as he moved around the table, soothing now, petting her like a cat begging to be stroked. Any more of this and she'd be purring in no time at all.

  "And he's also forgotten that part of his job is to make sure you never forget how to feel. To feel loved-to feel desired. Not just to feel like…" He paused.

  "Like a mere accessory." She finished his sentence.

  Cris chuckled. "That's his biggest mistake." His warm hands paused either side of her hips. "And perhaps it's yours too."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Perhaps you should tell him that you want more."

  "I don't know how. I don't even know if the wanting is there at this point." And that was the truth as well. One that plagued her incessantly, a demon that often proved more worrying than all the others put together.

  "I don't seem to be that upset about it, or lying awake at night tormented by it. It's like I'm just…numb."

  "Ahh, Jennifer. You are so wrong. You worry you cannot feel anything anymore. Shall I prove to you how stupid a concern that is?"

  Oh God. If you only could.

  "I…" Jen's mouth dried up and her throat closed.

  "Will you trust me? Honor me with that, at least?"

  She felt the lightest brush of something against her buttocks. His lips perhaps? No, it couldn't be…could it?

  "I shall do nothing you will not like. You can tell me to leave if you want…" His hands slipped to her legs once more, only this time he caressed the inside of her thighs, pushing them slightly apart. "Just let me prove to you that you can still feel? That there is a deep and intriguing passion still alive within you…"

  Jen swallowed down a huge lump in her throat and tried to think past the thundering of her pulse in her ears. This was her chance. Her moment to explore who and what she was now-and what she might still be. She had to make a decision based solely on what she wanted. This was about nothing but her.

  And wasn't that why she'd taken this trip in the first place?

  She took a deep breath and made her choice. For the first time in more years than she could remember, she listened to the yearnings of her own spirit, nobody else's.

  She chose herself. "Okay."

  Chapter 6

  She was ivory and silk and he could swear she was melting beneath his touch like an ice cream cone outside in the midday heat.

  Her muffled acquiescence had taken a while to emerge; Cris's life had pretty much passed before his eyes while he waited for it. His cock was thick and painful, his pulse pounding and his hands poised, already knowing the next touch would inflame him even more.

  "Do you like the touch of a man's hands, Jennifer? When he strokes you, caresses you…"

  Suiting action to words, he gently dappled his fingertips across the tops of her thighs, just beneath the curve of her buttocks, and then down between her legs.

  The moan and the shifting of her thighs was a good answer and he barely heard the mumbled "mmm" over the thrumming of his blood in his ears. She was responding to him tentatively but positively.

  He needed no more than that.

  Deliberately, he slipped one hand to her pussy, the hot slickness of arousal guiding him to the swollen folds.

  She moaned as he found them and began exploring.

  "You feel that, yes?"

  "Cris." She sighed, and he smiled as he noticed her buttocks tense in reaction to his butterfly-light strokes.

  "Relax." He continued to pet her. "Just relax. Forget everything but your body, Jennifer. Focus on how it feels, how it's responding."

  He let a finger drift closer to her clit, and leaned toward her, reaching for the prize he knew lurked within those moist lips.

  "Aaaahhh…" She gasped and thrust her pussy into his hand.

  Yep. There it was.

  "Oh lord." She groaned as he began to learn her preferences.

  He loved this, exploring a woman, finding out what she liked, where she was most sensitive, how she reacted to each different touch. It was a prelude to doing it all over again with his mouth and just the thought of doing that with Jennifer damn near made him come in his shorts.

  Her scent was thick and heady now, a tangy sweet blend of honey and flowers. He would know her in the darkness from her scent alone.

  She was wet, very wet, her pussy soaking his hand as he aroused her. So much for being numb.

  He grinned, somewhat painfully, but stifled his own lust since this was for her. He wasn't seventeen any more. He was a grown man. Grown men didn't explode all over a really wonderful naked ass just because they were finger fucking the pussy beneath it.

  Sure, amigo. Keep telling yourself that.

  Her skin was dewed, a sheen of sweat making it gleam under the lights of the room. It was dazzling him, and he stepped away from her, slowly withdrawing his hand, smiling at the whimper when his touch left her heat.

  "Sssssh."

  He reached out and dimmed the lights.

  "Cris…" She moved, the slight shudder an invitation, the twitch of her hips a siren call for him to return.

  "Turn over, belleza. Let me touch you."

  She stilled, then lifted herself, struggling with the towel and the sheet. He helped her, noting her flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids. Which closed over her eyes as she settled on her back.

  That was okay with him. If she'd watched him while he worked her, lost himself in her body-well, that would have finished him right there and then.

  His distended shorts brushed her arm and she sucked in a breath.

  "Y
ou're…"

  "Yes, I am. But don't worry about it. This is for you, not me."

  He ran his hand gently over the soft womanly curve of her belly from hip to hip. "You are so beautiful, Jennifer. So silky."

  "I need to lose-"

  He stopped her with a hand over her mouth. "I never want to hear you say that. Ever. You are who you are and I am enjoying you, enjoying the feel of you. There are no stupid rules about women in this room, or standards of measurement or beauty. Do you understand me?"

  She sighed and nodded as he took his hand away. "I understand."

  "Good." He resumed his caresses. "You are a woman and therefore should be warm." He stroked around her navel. "Smooth." His fingers danced up her torso. "And firm. And…round…"

  He cupped her breast, lifting the solid weight, watching her hardened nipple tighten even more as he brushed his thumb over the tip. "So lovely. Perfect breasts."

  Any response she might have made evaporated as he took the other breast and gave it the same treatment.

  She was reduced to more whimpers and a little moan of pleasure as he rubbed those rosy buds more firmly.

  He couldn't help but smile. "You are feeling this, now, I think?"

  Feeling it?

  Jen was seconds away from orgasm. Her body felt like a stick of dynamite and the timer fuse was about a centimeter away from her pussy. She was, without a doubt, gonna explode.

  Letting go, letting herself be touched like this-by an almost-stranger-it was so out of character for her as to be unbelievable. And yet here she was. Naked, writhing lasciviously beneath the skilled hands of a handsome Latin massage therapist.

  Who was about to masturbate her to her climax.

  Oh yeah. Who said vacations couldn't be fun?

  She could only be thankful for the dimmed lights as his hands drifted from her breasts down again, stroking her hips, making her wriggle as they brushed a tickle low over her belly and then…and then…

  "Mmm, yesss."

  She was shameless now, needy, wanting his touch, his caresses. Her thighs parted and she knew she was inviting him to take her as he wished. To do with her as he wished.